


Street Lights, Big Dreams

by universallongings



Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: Airplanes, Drinking, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Morning Cuddles, New York City, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Public Display of Affection, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Travel, mentions of trauma and ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26424100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universallongings/pseuds/universallongings
Summary: Five days. No work. No interruptions. It was the longest she’d ever had Tim Bradford all to herself. And she planned to make the most of it.ORTim and Lucy take a trip to New York City.
Relationships: Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Comments: 73
Kudos: 197





	1. Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a chaptered fic in this fandom, so I hope you all enjoy it! I’m planning on updating every Saturday, so stay tuned!
> 
> This fic was inspired by a longing for one of the most magical cities in the world (at the most magical time of year to see it), in my opinion. If you’re feeling travel starved lately, I hope it can go a little way toward filling the void. 
> 
> The title for this fic comes from “Empire State of Mind” by JAY-Z and Alicia Keys.
> 
> Comments and kudos never fail to make my day!

“You ready for an adventure?” Lucy asked, sliding her arms around Tim’s neck as his hands settled on her hips. 

“With you?” he asked before quickly kissing her smile. “Always.”

Maybe she was crazy, taking Tim with her to New York to visit Rachel, knowing their history. Maybe she was making it awkward for everyone. But Tim had seemed excited about the prospect of some much-needed time away, and Lucy was sure Rachel’s new boyfriend would be happy to have someone to talk to about baseball with while the two of them meticulously recapped each episode of _The Bachelor_ (even though they already debriefed each other every Tuesday). 

Still—bringing the man you love across the country to spend a weekend with a woman he once dated in a city he once considered moving to for that woman had to qualify her for some level of insanity. 

But when Tim smiled back at her as he pulled their suitcases along the driveway to Angela’s waiting car, she forgot every reason why this had the potential to be weird and could only focus on the excitement tingling under her skin.

An entire country in between them and the everyday stresses of life back home. An entire city for them to explore. Together. 

Five days. No work. No interruptions. 

It was the longest she’d ever had Tim Bradford all to herself. 

And she planned to make the most of it. 

They just had a long cross-country flight to get through first. 

\-------------------------------------

Tim Bradford didn’t seem like someone who had fears—or at least not “normal people” fears. He killed spiders with cold efficiency. He was bored by horror movies. He loved thunderstorms and never balked at the sight of needles when donating blood. 

But every superhero has a weakness.

And Lucy was quickly learning that Tim Bradford’s was air travel. 

“You okay?” she asked as they walked through LAX after stocking up on her traditional plane essentials of the biggest bottle of water they had and as many trashy tabloids as she could fit in the empty space left in her carry-on. 

“Never better,” he said completely unconvincingly, the telltale set of his jaw enough for Lucy to pull him into a relatively empty alcove of chairs close to their gate. 

He crossed his arms over his chest as he sat down next to her, clearly determined not to talk about it. 

(As if he didn’t know who he was dealing with.) 

“You know that tough-guy crap has never worked with me, so don’t start now,” she chided, gently tugging at his arms and smiling slightly when he let her take his hand. 

(Baby steps.) 

She kept going, her voice low and soft. “It’s totally normal to have anxiety about flying,” she explained, remembering how many times that was used as an example in her college classes. 

“It’s not anxiety,” he said defensively, although his body language was anything but defensive as he laced his fingers through hers. “I just don’t like leaving my life in the hands of a total stranger a mile above the ground. I mean, what if the pilot is a total idiot?” 

“Spoken like a true control freak,” she responded affectionately, shaking her head at him in a close approximation of the look she was usually on the receiving end of. 

“Listen, I’m better than I used to be,” he admitted, taking a long drink of his much more sensibly-sized bottle of water. “I puked the night before I flew overseas the first time.” 

Glimpses into Tim’s past—especially the more vulnerable moments of his past—were still rare, and Lucy cherished each one, even a vision of 18-year-old Tim Bradford sleeping next to a toilet before donning his uniform and flying off to war. They were part of the complex mosaic of a man that she loved, so she kept them close to her heart. 

She could see his shoulders relaxing as they talked, so she turned playful. “Well I’m glad last night was more pleasant,” she teased, watching the smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. 

“You make a very good distraction,” he answered back, his hand slipping from hers to squeeze her thigh through her leggings.

She didn’t want to enjoy his touch too much in the middle of one of the world’s busiest airports, but even after more than a year of it, the feeling of his hands on any part of her body still made her burn. And judging by the cocky grin on his face, he knew it—and was proud of it. 

_Two could play at this game,_ Lucy thought. 

She put her hand over his on her leg, guiding it up just a little closer to where they both knew she really wanted it. It was just a fraction of an inch—undetectable to anyone not named Tim Bradford. 

But Tim Bradford _definitely_ detected it. 

“Well...I’ll be right next to you in case you need any more distractions,” she said with a wink, enjoying the way his brain seemed to short circuit in that moment as all the possibilities of what she was saying flooded his mind at once. 

Maybe she was just trying to help him through his anxiety.

Maybe she was just happy and in love and having fun. 

But maybe she’d always fantasized about joining the Mile-High Club.

For the moment, that was for her to know and for him to wonder about as she watched his jaw unclench for the first time since they checked their bags. 

He’d always been good at taking her mind off her worries. It was about time she returned the favor. 

\----------------------------------------------

Lucy’s view on the flight was perfect—the soft California sunset giving way to the hypnotically inky sky over the Rockies. She’d always adored the way the world looked from the window seat—cities announcing their presence with a cluster of bright lights amid long stretches of wilderness draped in darkness. It was a reminder that the universe was so much bigger and more magical than just her little corner of it.

But in that moment, her little corner of it felt pretty magical. 

She could feel fingertips tracing a line up and down her forearm, and she knew Tim was watching her watch the world pass by below. When she slowly turned to face him, she realized she might have a new favorite view on a flight. 

His eyes were bright enough to light the dark cabin around them. His smile was soft. His cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned a very cute shade of pink.

“Hey baby...” he said softly into the stillness of their surroundings. 

“Hi,” she replied as she leaned over to kiss him. What started as a quick peck soon took a sharp turn into heated territory as he opened his mouth to her. He tasted like whiskey and ginger ale—spicy and more than a little intoxicating. 

(When she’d booked the tickets, she’d had to convince him that the splurge for first class would be worth it. Now, he seemed pretty content with the perks—especially the relative privacy...and the free drinks.)

A snore from one of their fellow travelers brought Lucy back to her senses, and she pulled away slightly—just enough to trace his easy smile with her thumb. 

“You doing okay?” she asked gently. She liked being able to take care of him for once. And when his smile grew under her touch, she loved knowing she was doing a good job. 

He nodded slowly before he brought his mouth to hers again. “Favorite flight ever,” he mumbled against her lips. 

When she pulled back to rest her forehead against his, she giggled. “I think that’s the whiskey talking.”

He raised his eyebrows to indicate she probably wasn’t entirely wrong as he drained the remaining contents of his glass. “Maybe,” he said with a smirk. “Or maybe I just have a good view.” 

“Very smooth,” she teased as she finished the last of her Bloody Mary before unhooking her seatbelt and stretching. “I’ll be right back,” she said, her eyes darting up to make sure the bathroom at the front of the cabin was empty. 

“Again?” he huffed. “That’s what happens when you drink a bottle of water big enough for a family of four.” He tapped the tip of her nose, and she was struck once again by the almost inhuman adorableness of tipsy Tim Bradford. 

“Staying hydrated is important, Sergeant Bradford,” she said with a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’ll be wishing you’d had enough water for a family of four when you wake up tomorrow.” 

She could almost feel his eye roll as he put his tray up and moved to unhook his seatbelt. But suddenly, she got a better idea. 

“Hold on,” she whispered, her hand on his chest, taking a second to savor the heat of him through his Rams t-shirt. “I think I can make it.” 

As she impressively invaded his personal space in a way that still seemed innocent enough for the setting, he seemed to get the hint. “I’ve got ya,” he said, his hands sliding to her waist as she leaned over him. They felt pleasantly rough against her sides as they skimmed under the fabric of her thin turquoise hoodie. 

_She_ was trying to tease _him_ , but she found herself more than a bit unsteady as she made her way into the aisle—his presence and the plane’s movement and the pair of strong cocktails she’d finished combining to make it a bit more of an arduous trek to the tiny bathroom than she’d been anticipating. 

Lucy had never loved airplane bathrooms. They’re tiny and uncomfortable and any bumps always felt worse inside them. But that dislike had seemingly turned into outright fear in the last couple of years, which made sense given her newly acquired claustrophobia. So she tried to make quick use of the bathroom and distract herself with more pleasant thoughts—like how relaxed and happy (and handsy) the man waiting for her was. 

Just as she was redoing her messy bun and thinking of how to get back into her seat in a different but no less flirtatious way, the turbulence hit. 

The flight had been fairly smooth to that point, but now, it was shaking forcefully, and Lucy was shaking right along with it. She could hear the captain saying something through the speakers about a brief bumpy patch, and she reminded herself of all the statistics she knew about planes being able to withstand even the strongest turbulence. 

But the problem was she didn’t feel like she was even on a plane anymore. 

She felt like she was back in that barrel, being kicked down the side of a bumpy hill. 

The panic was starting to close in—hot and heavy, her fingers losing feeling and her eyes losing focus. 

_Tim._

She had to get back to Tim.

She somehow found the clarity through the fog of fear to get out of the bathroom and back down the aisle to where he was sitting, staring straight ahead and gripping the armrest with white knuckles. 

“I’m here,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster. She watched his entire body sag with relief in response as he got up quickly to let her back in—all fun and games forgotten for now.

Once she sat back down and buckled herself in, she took his hand firmly in hers and said, “We’re gonna be okay.” She tried to repeat it, but the shaking felt too strong and the plane felt too small and her voice broke.

Immediately sensing that she was in trouble, he picked up where she left off. “We’re gonna be okay,” he repeated. “You’re not there, Lucy. You’re with me. You’re safe.” 

Somehow he always knew how to bring her back. Her breathing slowed along with the plane’s movements, but she still kept her hand latched onto his. 

“Thanks,” she whispered as she grabbed the blanket she’d been using as a pillow and threw it over their legs, trying to stop their trembling. She found his hand underneath, and he held on tight. 

“I think we both need another drink,” he said with a shaky exhale, and she was surprised to find how easy her laughter escaped her lips. 

\----------------------------------

More drinks led to more easy laughter, which faded into contented sighs as Tim’s hand began to slowly trace a path with his short fingernails up and down the inside of her thigh beneath the blanket covering them both. 

There was no way in hell Lucy was paying attention to _Booksmart_ on her iPad anymore. 

She tried to keep her breathing steady as she teased, “Watch those wandering hands, Sergeant Bradford.”

His finger stilled, and she tried not to groan in disappointment. “Do you want me to stop?” He was frustratingly serious. 

“Never,” she sighed.

The darkness and the drinks and the distance from the rest of the world felt like freedom.

It felt like permission.

So maybe she opened her legs a little wider under the blanket.

And maybe his fingers traveled a little higher. 

And maybe she brought her mouth to his ear and whispered, “Don’t start what you can’t finish.” 

“I _always_ finish what I start, Boot,” he said in reply as the law-abiding, rulebook-quoting part of his brain seemed to lose out to the challenge in her voice, the whiskey in his veins, and the heat between her legs. 

As he slipped his fingers under the waistband of her leggings, she hissed happily. 

It was his turn to issue a challenge of his own. “You gotta stay quiet, baby.” 

His fingers gently moving along the waistband of her underwear tested that command immediately, but she nodded, biting down on her lip. 

“Good girl,” he said in a voice so low that it brought her closer to the brink all on its own before his fingers brushed over the rapidly dampening fabric between her legs. 

(She’d never been more grateful to have chosen to wear black leggings.)

Lucy’s eyes traveled to him as he pretended to watch the movie but stole a glance up at her as he found her clit through the fabric of her underwear and rubbed his thumb over it. She let her eyes flutter closed for a moment as she tried to keep her face impassive, a feat that was becoming impossible. His touch was sure and steady, and the contrast between the calm and collected look on his face and the insistent pressure of his thumb on her clit was too much. 

_Tim Bradford was about to get her off on a commercial flight filled with people._ The thought alone was enough to get there, but she stopped thinking altogether when his fingernails grazed softly over her through the thin layer of cotton separating his touch from her body. 

She adjusted her hips imperceptibly under the blanket to give him better access, and he slipped his fingers past the fabric of her underwear to press even more confidently against her, while his mouth dropped one seemingly innocuous kiss at the juncture of her earlobe and jaw. 

That was all she needed. 

She let her head roll onto his shoulder, hoping that it looked like she was falling asleep but needing somewhere to muffle the shaky sigh that seemed to come from the place where his fingers were still gently coaxing out the last waves of her orgasm. 

“Favorite flight ever,” she said as quietly as she could.

“You, Lucy Chen, are a bad influence,” he teased as he pressed a gentle kiss into her hair while he wiped his hands on his jeans. 

She snuggled into his side, satisfied and sleepy. “That’s why you love me.”

“One of many reasons,” he said with a yawn as they both finally drifted off—L.A. behind them, New York ahead of them, and their favorite person by their side.


	2. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're diving into Tim's POV this time around—I hope you like it!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!

Tim Bradford should have been miserable. 

He was cold. He was a little hungover. And he was surrounded by people—noisy, jaywalking, personal-space-invading people. 

But he found himself smiling instead. 

(Maybe happiness actually was contagious. And maybe Lucy Chen was a superspreader.) 

He smiled when she fell asleep on his shoulder on the long, midnight cab ride from JFK to their hotel near Times Square. He smiled when she woke up before him for once, excitement etched into her features as she kissed him awake. He smiled as she enthusiastically enjoyed her waffles at the tiny diner across the street from where they were staying. (His black coffee and egg sandwich were fine, but he’d definitely had better—although he’d never tell her that when she was so proud to have picked the “perfect New York breakfast spot.”) 

And even now, as she dragged him through the Disney Store and past where they tape _Good Morning America_ and inside a place with more M&Ms than any person should eat in a lifetime, he was still smiling. 

That’s what she did. 

She made the world a little brighter.

She made him a little brighter. 

So he’d stop 100 times for her to take the perfect picture of neon signs against the blue sky. He’d eat hot dogs from a sketchy-looking cart with her just because the guidebook told her to. And he’d even venture into one of those ridiculous souvenir stores where everything says “I Love NY” just because she needed to find the tackiest shot glass to bring home for Jackson. 

He’d do all of that—and so much more—because when she’d look back at him, cheeks pink from the November cold, her face would light up, and so would everything else. 

“Thanks for indulging me,” she said as they walked back to the hotel to change for dinner, her tiny body tucked into his side. “I know Times Square isn’t exactly your thing.”

He thought of her sparkling eyes as she took in the city they’d both seen as two California kids—her as a college student on spring break crossing Broadway off her bucket list and him just after his first tour, going to visit his best friend who’d moved to Manhattan. They weren’t the same people they were back then, but she still saw the world with wide-eyed wonder. 

It was one of the most miraculous things about her. 

“I liked it better this time around,” he said with complete honesty and only a slight smirk. 

\------------------------------------

This should have been awkward. 

He was sitting in his ex-girlfriend’s apartment in the city he had once briefly considered moving to for her. He was watching the woman he loved and his ex-girlfriend in an animated discussion about reality television. And he was sitting across from his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend—a guy named Dave who Lucy had once said Rachel described as “like Michael B. Jordan but hotter.” 

But it was actually pretty great. 

Rachel was glowing, and it made him feel good to see her so settled and enthusiastic about life in New York after more than a year in the city. His California mind couldn’t fathom how someone could prefer a place so crowded and noisy and cold, but he figured all that really meant was he made the right choice when she followed her heart to this city while he stayed behind in the city (and unbeknownst to his clueless self at the time, with the woman) that already had his. 

While Rachel and Lucy giggled over glasses of red wine and stories from college that grew increasingly hard to comprehend, Tim couldn’t stop staring with what he knew was probably a goofy grin. This was Lucy Chen in her natural habitat—carefree and excited, laughing and talking at a speed that increased along with her level of enthusiasm. 

He knew in that moment that if she decided she needed to move across the country, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d follow that light and laughter wherever it led. 

“Are you following this at all?” Dave’s voice cut through Tim’s thoughts, and when Tim looked back at him, he saw the affection he felt for Lucy reflected in the way the other man looked at Rachel. 

( _Good_ , Tim thought. _She deserves it._ )

“Just smile and nod,” Tim said with a laugh. “It’ll get you far.” 

“Noted,” Dave responded. “So Rachel said you’re a cop. Is that how you and Lucy met?”

Tim nodded. “I actually trained her.” He wanted to see if Lucy was listening, so he added, “It was a tough job, but _someone_ had to do it.”

The smack on his arm told him she had, in fact, been paying attention to their side conversation. She narrowed her eyes at him playfully, and he realized he wasn’t wrong—she’d made it tough. She challenged him and pushed him probably even more than he’d challenged and pushed her. And it was the best thing to ever happen to him. 

“And I’m glad that someone was me,” he added in a teasingly placating tone before dramatically kissing her cheek. 

“I’ve trained him well,” Lucy said in a faux whisper to Rachel before the two of them went back into their own little world, reminiscing about past boyfriends who sounded like they weren’t so well-trained. 

“I’m not sure I want in on these stories,” Tim said with a playful sigh as he turned his attention back to Dave. “Lucy said you’re a teacher?” 

“Yeah,” Dave answered. “I teach third grade at a charter school here in Brooklyn. The kids can drive me crazy, but there’s nothing more rewarding than seeing them succeed.” 

“That’s noble work, man,” Tim replied. “I sure as hell could never do it.” 

“Now let’s cut the small talk,” Dave started conspiratorially and Tim wondered where this was about to go. “As an LA guy, you’d know best: Should I start Jared Goff on my fantasy team this week?”

The surprised laugh that escaped Tim’s mouth was loud enough to catch the attention of both Lucy and Rachel. “Hell yes!” he answered. “Goff is going to light up the Cowboys D.” 

\------------------------------------

Another hour, some delicious homemade lemon squares, and a cup of coffee later, their little foursome was lingering in the doorway. 

As Lucy and Dave hugged like old friends, Rachel kissed Tim on the cheek. 

“I’m so happy you came,” she said. 

“Me too,” he replied. His eyes lingered on the other pair standing nearby. “Dave’s great, by the way—not that my opinion should matter.” 

“It all worked out like it was supposed to,” she said in the serene way she’d always seemed to possess—the calm night sky to Lucy’s bright sunny day. 

His gaze settled on that sunshine smile beaming back at him over Rachel’s shoulder. “It did.” 

Rachel looked back as if to confirm where his eyes had wandered to before pulling him in for one more quick hug. “Take care of her, okay?” And quieter, just for him. “And let her take care of you too.” 

(The first was the easiest thing in the world. The second—well, he was getting better at it.)

With a quick nod, he pulled away and said his goodbyes to Dave with a promise to take him to a Dodgers game when they visited LA next summer. He then stood with his hands in his pockets, catching the last seconds of Lucy and Rachel’s approximately 200th hug of the night.

“See you for brunch on Sunday,” Rachel said as she gave Lucy one last squeeze. 

“Love you,” Lucy whispered. 

“Always, babe,” Rachel replied before they pulled away, both seemingly fighting back tears—even though they were going to see each other in about 36 hours. 

As they walked out the door with one last wave and a “Thanks again!” from Lucy, Tim thought about how happy he was in that moment. He was happy he and Rachel could interact without it being weird. He was happy she was happy with a guy as seemingly great and grounded as Dave. And he was happy that this life—tiny apartments and endless subway rides and having to hug Lucy goodbye—wasn’t his life. 

As he slipped his hand into Lucy’s on their walk down the hall and into the brisk fall night, he knew Rachel had been right. 

It all worked out like it was supposed to.

\---------------------------------------

This shouldn’t have been awkward. 

The hard part was over—and it actually ended up not being hard at all. But the subway ride and the walk back to the hotel had been weirdly quiet—especially considering who he was traveling with. 

Tim knew something was up when _he_ had to be the one to initiate conversations. 

“So...Dave seemed great—for a Yankees fan, that is.”

Her laugh in response was half-hearted at best. 

“Okay,” he said as soon as the door to their room shut behind him. He tried to use his old T.O. voice but sounded very rusty even to his own ears. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but talk to me.” 

“I’m fine,” she replied without meeting his eyes as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Bullshit, Boot,” he responded. He noted the tiny smile on her face with no small amount of pride. He ran with it, crouching down to her eye level and taking her hands in his. “Talk to me,” he repeated, softer this time. 

Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his. “Do you ever regret staying in LA?” 

_Oh._

He brought one hand to her chin, wordlessly asking her to see him—to believe him.

“Never.” 

“Not even tonight?” she asked as a surprising pool of tears formed along her lower lashes. 

“Not for a second,” he responded with all the honesty he could put into those words, more than a little confused by her doubt. He eased himself onto the bed next to her and caught one rogue tear that escaped down her cheek with his thumb. “Hey...Where’s this coming from?” 

Lucy took a deep breath. “It’s just...When Rachel and I used to go out together, she’d end up with 10 guys’ phone numbers at every bar, and I’d just get the phone number of a new friend I made in the bathroom. It’s just how it always was. Rachel was cool. Rachel _is_ cool.” 

She started talking faster, verging on rambling. “And tonight she had that amazing dress on and her hair was perfect and she just makes it all look so easy, you know?” When he didn’t respond (because, truthfully, he didn’t know—he’d been focused most of the night on how good Lucy looked in her black skinny jeans), she continued, “Sorry. I’m being dumb. I love her—I do. It’s just hard not to start comparing myself.” 

Tim tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “You’re not dumb. You’re wrong—but not dumb.” When she laughed a little, he took it as permission to keep going. “There’s no comparison, baby. Listen, Rachel is cool—there’s no denying that.” When she stiffened, he quickly added, “But I don’t want cool.” 

He thought of Lucy’s smile in Times Square. He thought of the way she hugged Dave like she’d known him for her whole life despite meeting him five seconds before. He thought of the way she laughed against his lips and the heat of her body under his hands. 

“You know what I want?” When she responded by looking up at him with wide eyes, he couldn’t resist and bent down to kiss the bridge of her nose before he finished. “I want warm. And you, Lucy Chen, are the warmest person I know.” 

A full smile bloomed across her face as she replied, “For someone who hates talking about feelings, you somehow always know what to say.” 

He traced a fingertip along her jaw. “What can I say? You’ve trained me well.”

When he kissed her then, he tried to put all the certainty he felt in his heart into the slow and sure movement of his mouth over hers. “For the record,” he added against her waiting lips, “I’d totally give you my number at a bar.” 

When she laughed, it felt like everything was right in the world again. When she whispered, “I love you,” into his skin, he felt the warmth of her settle into his bones against the November New York chill. And when he laid her back against the pillows and pressed praises into the soft skin of her inner thighs, he thought she tasted like sea salt and sunshine and _home_.


	3. Saturday

Lucy Chen was brought up to practice gratitude—to find little things to be thankful for every day. 

This morning—like most mornings spent naked in bed with Tim Bradford—it wasn’t too hard.

She was grateful for the feeling of his strong heartbeat against her back and his gentle hand over the tattoo on her side. She was grateful for his lips on her cheekbone and his fingers in her hair. She was grateful for his soft smile when she turned in his arms to say “Good morning.” 

She was even grateful for his comically loud groan when she jumped out of bed and reminded him that they had _big plans_ this morning.

“The things I do for you,” he teased as he dropped a kiss to her shoulder blade while she dug in her suitcase for some clothes. 

She stood up then, turning slowly to press the length of her bare body against his. The way he looked at her as his hands slid down well below her waist was another thing for her to be grateful for.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you later,” she said with a smirk.

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he said as his hands moved back up to her hips as if to prove his point. 

“I hope you do,” she sighed as she pushed herself up on her tiptoes. 

She kissed him just once but made it count—her mouth opening easily to him as her fingers stroked up and down his sides. 

She could have stayed there all day—and had on many shared days off in the house she loved getting to call “theirs.” But today, they had a breakfast to get to.

And she had a bucket list item to cross off.

\-------------------------------

She should have felt ridiculous. But instead, she felt proud. 

She was standing on 5th Avenue, holding a black and white cookie and a coffee from Magnolia Bakery while Tim snapped pictures of her with her favorite pair of obnoxious sunglasses on to document the moment—maybe for social media but mostly for her. 

She was having breakfast at Tiffany’s. 

After she first saw that movie as a teenage girl, she immediately added this to the bucket list notebook she kept stashed away in her room. And it was that teenage bucket list that sprang to her mind during the long and lonely minutes that passed by when she was buried in a barrel underground. She thought of all the silly, frivolous things she’d wanted to do but had forgotten about or told herself weren’t important anymore. And she promised herself that if someone found her, she’d start crossing some of those things off—no matter how ridiculous they seemed. 

Someone found her. _Tim_ found her. And now they’re here—having breakfast at Tiffany’s.

She hoped teenage Lucy would approve. 

“Thanks for playing Instagram boyfriend,” Lucy teased, taking the phone from Tim’s hand.

“I have no idea what that means, but I think I should hate it,” he responded before taking a sip of his own coffee. 

“Trust your instincts on that one,” she confirmed with a quick kiss to his cheek, scrolling before she settled on a photo of her in profile next to one of the display windows that was already decorated for Christmas. “Jackson is going to love this one!” 

She sent it off to her best friend with the caption “Dreams come true <3” before looking up at Tim. “Can we go inside?” she asked reverently.

He answered with the soft shake of his head that had told her he thought she was adorable long before his words did. “I guess we should give them some business after we loitered all morning outside.” 

Their banter faded away as soon as they walked inside. Some things deserved hushed tones, and this store was one of them. It felt like walking into a museum—or a church, if the thing you worshipped was diamonds.

And in that moment, Lucy felt a little bit like kneeling in front of some of those cases. 

Her eyes were drawn right away to a simple solitaire on a white gold band—unassumingly beautiful in the middle of a lot of over-the-top splendor. But she tried not to linger. She didn’t want Tim to feel pressured in any way. Sure, they’d talked about marriage in vague terms. (It was bound to happen when you’re with someone for over a year and live together.) But they hadn’t put a timetable on it, and Lucy wanted Tim to feel comfortable stepping into that next stage on his own terms. Moving in had been the big leap for her, and she figured this was the hurdle for him. There was no doubt in her mind that someday she would see him slide a ring on her finger (maybe one a little more sensibly priced than the one that had caught her eye), and that certainty made her patient (even when her biological clock was conjuring up dreams of a little girl with his blonde hair and her big smile). 

As they walked away from the engagement rings and toward the cases of even more ostentatious jewels, they quietly started a game of “How much is it?” that had them both gasping and giggling throughout the store. 

With his laughter in her ears and his hand in hers, Lucy thought back to her teenage self, writing down this dream and tucking it away. And she thought back to the Lucy of a couple of years ago, being given a second chance at this dream and so many others thanks in no small part to the man standing by her side. 

“Thank you,” Lucy said to him as they walked back onto 5th Avenue and toward Central Park. 

“For what?” he asked as he casually threw an arm around her shoulders. 

“For making sure I got to have breakfast at Tiffanys.”

\----------------------------------

It was easy to get lost in the magic of New York City in the fall. 

There was magic in the oasis of Central Park—the last gasp of leaves on the trees glowing like amber and rubies. There was magic in the chill in the air—the bite that felt foreign to a California girl but not unwelcome. (She just curled herself in closer to Tim as they ate their pretzels and watched the crowds pass by.) And there was magic in the way so much of the city already seemed ready for the holidays—the toy soldiers on top of Radio City Music Hall and the facade of Cartier wrapped like a present and the massive tree in Rockefeller Center waiting to be lit in less than two weeks. 

It was so easy to get lost in it, in fact, that Lucy and Tim found themselves in a time crunch once they got back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. 

Tim was busy trying to schedule out exactly how much time it would take Lucy to dry her hair, but the adorably authoritative way he was trying to tell her how long she could take in the shower gave her another idea.

_A better idea._

“I think I have a way to conserve some time _and_ water,” she said slowly as she moved toward the bathroom door. 

Tim’s smirk told her he knew exactly where she was going with this, but still he asked, “And what might that be?”

“I could tell you,” Lucy said, slowly stepping out of her jeans. “But it would be much more fun to show you.” She winked at him as she turned around, pulling her sweater over her head and dropping it to the floor as she did so. 

She barely had time to turn on the shower before Tim was in the bathroom with her in just his boxer briefs. He gently grabbed her by the waist, letting his thumbs settle right along the thin lines of elastic around her hips. 

“Excellent plan, Boot,” he whispered as his thumbs hooked under that elastic and pulled down slightly, asking for permission. 

“Well...I did tell you this morning that I’d make it up to you.” She unhooked the front clasp of her bra and before she could even drop it to the floor, he was kissing his way across the tops of her breasts. “And I keep my promises.” She hissed out the last syllable as his tongue found her nipple.

“An admirable quality,” he mumbled into the hollow of her throat. The feeling of his voice vibrating against her skin made her moan, which he captured with his mouth. 

She braced her hand on his shoulder as she stepped out of her underwear, and as soon as the fabric hit the floor, his fingers were staking their claim between her legs. 

“You ready, baby?” he breathed against the sensitive skin behind her ear as he brushed teasingly over her clit. 

“ _Yes_ ,” she sighed as he pulled back just enough to get out of his own underwear and guide her as she stepped into the shower on legs that were already shaky with want. 

The water was pleasantly hot, but Tim’s mouth was hotter as it moved relentlessly over her neck while he smoothly pressed her back against the tile. 

When she wrapped her leg around his hip, he laughed into her temple. 

“Somebody’s in a hurry to get to dinner,” he teased, sliding his hand down her hip to give her ass a playful squeeze. 

The feeling of him barely brushing against her folds as she bucked her hips was making her impatient—and needy. “I’ll show you what I’m in a hurry to do,” she shot back, tilting her hips and locking eyes with him so he knew without a doubt what she wanted. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as she brought her hand down to guide him right to her entrance. 

She put her lips against his ear. “Now you’re getting it.”

The talking and teasing stopped as he eased himself into her, stopping when her eyes fluttered closed and she adjusted her hips to make herself comfortable. 

“Okay?” he asked gently, placing a quick kiss to the side of her open mouth.

When she opened her eyes to the look of wonder on his face, she smiled. “Okay is an understatement,” she replied breathlessly as they quickly found their rhythm. 

Lucy loved when they could take their time in bed (or on the couch...or in his lap on a kitchen chair…). But there was something to be said for the dirty rush of a stolen moment. It was her favorite way to capitalize on the singular focus that made Tim Bradford so good at so many things. 

And when that singular focus was turned on her, it was mind-blowing. 

“I’m so close,” she panted as she gripped his shoulders with shaking hands. 

“I know,” he responded so softly that she could barely hear him over the rushing water. “I can feel it.” 

(He called her an open book, but maybe he’d just always been good at reading her.) 

He braced himself on the wall behind them with one hand while he used the other to reach down to help her get there. “Good?” he asked with the smug tone of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. But she was too far gone now to come up with a coherent comeback. 

“Fucking perfect,” she cried out instead, her orgasm tearing through her with a force that left her trembling in his arms as he quickly followed her into bliss with a low growl of her name that he pressed into the space between her neck and shoulder. 

“Do we really have to go?” he huffed into her hair as he eased her leg down to the ground and kept a steadying hand on her hip. 

“I love you,” she said in response as she reached over to grab her shampoo. “But not even the best sex is worth giving up _Hamilton_ tickets.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said with more than a hint of skepticism. 

\-----------------------------------

“So,” Lucy said playfully as they walked back from the theater hand in hand, “was it worth it?”

(She knew the answer. She’d caught him smiling with abandon whenever Hercules Mulligan appeared and nodding his head to “Guns and Ships” and wiping away more than a few tears when Eliza wrote herself back into the narrative.) 

He sighed as if in admission of defeat. “It was worth it.” But nothing seemed defeated about him as he gently backed her up against the nearest building, smiling brightly. “But only because now I still get to take you back upstairs and finish what we started.” 

She nudged her nose against his, oblivious to the people walking past—who seemed oblivious to them anyway. “What are you doing?”

His smirk made her knees weak. “Not throwing away my shot.”

She snorted before he brought her laughing lips to his. When he kissed her, she could still taste the perfect red sauce from the little Italian place nearby on his tongue. And when she slowly opened her eyes, he seemed backlit by the bright lights of the city.

It was her own little New York movie moment, and she let the gratitude she felt for it seep into every inch of her electrified skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter—it was one of my favorites to write! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	4. Sunday

Tim Bradford had made a lot of choices in his life. 

Joining the military right out of high school. Becoming part of the LAPD. Marrying Isabel. Divorcing Isabel. Dating Rachel. Ending things with Rachel. 

Some of those had been hard choices. 

Others were easier.

Turning down a sergeant’s position to keep training Lucy. Taking in Kojo when Lucy couldn’t keep him. Kissing Lucy for the first time in the soft light of his kitchen. Asking Lucy to move in with him.

Asking Lucy to marry him. 

That’s how he found himself walking down 5th Avenue alone as Lucy enjoyed a “no boys allowed” brunch with Rachel. He finished his bagel and coffee before he walked back into Tiffany’s for the second time in two days, immediately heading over to the case that held the solitaire ring that Lucy was trying almost painfully hard not to look at for too long the day before. 

(It was classic and unaffected, bright and beautiful. It was Lucy.)

On the long list of choices he’d made in his life, the choice to propose to Lucy was positioned squarely on the “easy as breathing” end. He’d known from the moment he kissed her that there was no going back for him. All that was left was to wait for the right moment.

(He knew in his gut that the right moment wasn’t going to come in this place so far from home. It was going to come back in LA—the city that belonged to them both, the city that brought them together. But the right ring was definitely here.)

So even though he was walking back down 5th Avenue with a little blue bag holding a little blue box and an entire future inside of it, he felt even lighter than he had earlier that morning. He’d made his choice, and all that was left to do was find the perfect way to let Lucy make hers. 

(He wanted it to be perfect for her. The first time around, he’d asked Isabel in a rush of love and relief after she’d been shot in the leg by some asshole trying to hold up a convenience store. He hadn’t even picked out a ring yet. He didn’t regret it—it was right for them, burning hot and moving fast. But this was different. Lucy was different.) 

With the morning sun shining off the caverns of concrete around him, he found himself picking up the pace. 

Because Lucy might already be back at the hotel waiting for him.

And he didn’t want to miss a second.

\-------------------------------

When Tim knocked on the hotel room door and heard nothing in response, he took a second to exhale and enjoy the fact that he didn’t have to try to hide his little secret before he got inside. He soon found the perfect hiding spot in a zippered compartment inside his suitcase that was set aside for his gym clothes, and just as he was closing it up, he heard a key card in the door.

He could feel himself smiling already at just the idea of seeing Lucy. He sometimes thought back to the very early days of their partnership and his annoyance that he would have to be around someone so aggressively cheerful (and aggressively talkative) every day. He wanted to smack that version of himself and tell him to appreciate it sooner—to appreciate _her_ sooner. 

His smile only grew when the idea of seeing her turned into reality when she stepped into the room—her yellow sweater and her sunshine smile already brightening up her surroundings. 

“Honey, I’m home!” she called out in a singsong voice, making herself giggle.

They met in the middle of the room, and she threw her arms around his neck as his hands immediately found their way under her sweater and onto her waist. 

“Did you miss me?” she asked playfully, looking up at him with slightly sleepy eyes. 

He nodded before dipping his head to taste the champagne and orange juice he knew would be lingering on her lips. “It looks like you had fun,” he said as he rubbed a thumb along her flushed cheek. 

Her eyes sparkled as her cheeks lifted higher under his touch. “We had the best time! I almost forgot how much fun we can have together.” Her grin turned adorably cocky, “And how many mimosa pitchers we can polish off.” 

(She was _very_ tipsy, and it was _very_ cute.)

“I bet it’s an impressive sight to see,” he said. 

Her enthusiastic nod turned into a long yawn. “Impressive in the moment—exhausting afterwards,” she sighed as she stepped out of his arms to flop dramatically onto the bed. 

“What a tough life,” he said with affectionate sarcasm, sitting next to her on the bed and patting her thigh in mock sympathy. 

“Go ahead and make fun,” she replied, giggling despite her feigned offense. “But you don’t have to suffer the pain of wearing skinny jeans after consuming your weight in French toast and mimosas.” 

He was thoroughly enjoying her mimosa-induced melodrama, so he played along. 

“You poor thing,” he cooed with only a little bit of laughter, moving his hands up to undo the button on the offending skinny jeans. “Want me to help?” he whispered as he slowly pulled down her zipper. 

She nodded and closed her eyes in what looked like blissful anticipation, easing her hips up to help him as he guided her jeans down her legs. 

“Much better,” she sighed as he stood up to toss them gently on the floor. She sat up against the pillows then, her knees hiked up close to her chest. When she grabbed his hand to gently tug him back down to her level, he noticed the glint of mischief in her eyes. “But you know what would be even better?” 

Annoying her was one of his favorite pastimes, so he pretended to think for a long moment before he replied, “A nap?” 

She rolled her eyes before opening her legs slowly, her sweater moving up to reveal the maroon lace of her underwear. “Maybe...But I think I need you to tire me out first.” 

(She was going to be the death of him...And he was going to enjoy every second of it.)

“Want to go to the gym?” he asked with what was probably a horrible attempt at a straight face. Even still, he moved between her legs, his fingers playing with the bits of lace over her hips. “We could get a good run in...Sweat out the champagne…” He brushed his nose gently against hers, back and forth with each teasing word he spoke. 

“I had a different kind of workout in mind,” she replied against the shell of his ear, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin in the way she knew drove him crazy. 

_Focus, Bradford,_ he told himself. “I think they have some free weights,” he suggested with his mouth hovering a breath from hers. 

She shook her head slowly, and the way she looked up at him then sent a rush of heat through his body. “Such a smart mouth,” she said as she kissed the corner of it. “But I think it’s not currently living up to its full potential.” 

_There it was._

He pulled back slightly to make sure they were on the same page and smiled when her tiny nod confirmed that they were.

(Of course they were.)

That was all the permission he needed. He eagerly helped her out of her underwear and soon found himself enjoying a sight that he was pretty sure rivaled anything else he’d seen on this trip so far. 

Lucy Chen was waiting for him, her eyes heated and heavy, her legs open. As he began to kiss his way up the insides of her thighs, he watched hungrily as she began rolling her hips in anticipation. 

He was more than ready to let her take whatever she wanted, so he quickly brought his mouth to its final destination between her legs. 

The smell and taste of her never ceased to overwhelm his senses. It was so impossibly _good_ , and he knew so much of it came from knowing how impossibly good he was making her feel. 

Her hand was in his hair almost immediately, and he laughed into her body as she held him exactly where she wanted him. She was greedy this morning, and he loved it. 

He loved the way she gripped his hair harder when he sucked on her clit for what was probably a ridiculously long amount of time. He loved the way her hips moved under his hands. He loved the rough whisper that told him that she felt “so fucking good, Tim...So fucking good.” 

He could feel her thighs shaking and her breathing speeding up, and he savored this moment of knowing that he was causing her body to feel this much pleasure. It was heady and powerful and made him feel like he could do anything. 

(She always made him feel like he could do anything.) 

The way she sounded when she came—loud and happy and completely uninhibited—made him smile against her. As her breathing slowed, he placed messy, open-mouthed kisses along her hip bones, enjoying the slight tremble under his mouth. 

He worked his way back up her body, stopping to let her taste herself on his lips. 

“Did I manage to tire you out?” he asked as he took in the satisfied smile on her face. Seeing her like this—and knowing he caused it—still felt like a precious gift he wanted to hold close to his heart.

She nodded slowly, her eyelids fluttering closed. “Excellent workout, Sergeant Bradford,” she mumbled into the pillow. 

“Get some rest, Boot,” he said with a gentle kiss to her hair as he watched her drift off to sleep. 

\------------------------------------

No matter where they were, Lucy still managed to make it feel like home. 

Even thousands of miles away, it still felt like a lazy Sunday in their little house. 

A long workout (for him) and a long nap (for her). A bowl of takeout ramen that she was sneaking bites of despite insisting that she was still full from brunch. A few minutes spent cuddling on the bed while they watched Kojo play (through the live feed from the place where they were boarding him). A medley of Broadway ballads as she showered and dried her hair. A smattering of kisses to her shoulder as she brushed her teeth.

His hands in the back pockets of her jeans. Her lips on the underside of his jaw. His frustrated whine when she said they needed to do something besides just staying in the room all day. Her laugh when she promised him that they’d call it an early night. 

Her enthusiasm for things he thinks are absolutely ridiculous. 

“Look at the skaters!” she cried as they passed the rink at Rockefeller Center. 

He shook his head at the figures slowly skating by on the surprisingly small surface below. “Poor suckers,” he said. “Paying 30 bucks to fall on their asses in front of a crowd.”

“You’re such a Grinch!” she sighed. “It’s part of the magic of the city.” 

“It’s a tourist trap,” he countered. 

She slid her arm through his. “Alright, Mr. Cynical. I bet even you won’t be able to complain about New York pizza.” She steered them in the direction of the place that she’d meticulously researched on Yelp and had been talking about for weeks. 

Even still, he caught her stealing one last glance over her shoulder at the skaters.

And just like at home, he knew he’d give her whatever she wanted. 

\---------------------------------------

“I have to admit it,” Tim said through a mouthful of ridiculously good pepperoni. “This may be the one thing New York has over LA.” 

“Did you just say you liked something about New York?” Lucy said triumphantly as she finished the final bites of her pizza. 

Tim sighed. “I’m just saying that whoever Joe is, he knows his pizza.” He knew from the moment they reached Joe’s Pizza that he was going to have a hard time hating this. It was right up his alley—only two kinds of slices to choose from (cheese and pepperoni), paper plates, a tiny takeout window. No fuss, no nonsense. 

(The exact opposite of what he was about to do.)

“If you’re done gloating, it’s my turn to take you somewhere,” he said, taking her hand in his. 

“You planned something and managed to keep it from me?” She sounded skeptical, and he tried not to laugh thinking about the blue box sitting back in the room.

“It’s more of a spur-of-the-moment thing,” he replied, watching her narrow her eyes as she tried to guess what it might be. 

Those wheels in her head kept turning until they were winding their way down past the crowds around Rockefeller Center and in front of the skate rental sign. 

The way her eyes lit up as the pieces fell into place was worth every penny he was about to spend—and any potential humiliation he was about to endure.

“I thought you said this was a tourist trap?” she said with amusement coloring every word. 

“It _is_ a tourist trap,” he said as he laced up his skates. “But I guess we _are_ tourists.” 

As she stepped smoothly onto the ice, she reached for his hands, holding them in hers. “Even you can’t resist this city’s charms forever.” 

He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t the city’s charms he couldn’t resist, but this whole thing was already cheesy enough. When she looked up at him, though, he knew it was written all over his face. 

The only thing in this world he could never resist was her. 

“Thank you,” she whispered as they slowly made their way around the ice—feeling like two California kids holding onto each other a half a world away from home. 

He replied by spinning her around in what was probably a terrible attempt at looking smooth and romantic but made her laugh, which was all that really mattered anyway. And when he kissed her upturned lips as the bright lights sparkled in the darkness around them, he thought that maybe she was right.

Maybe there was magic in this city, after all.

\-----------------------------------

“A girl could get used to this view.”

Lucy’s awestruck voice was muffled as she snuggled in closer to his chest as they took in the sights from the observation deck at the Top of the Rock. 

The skyline of New York was shining around them, but Tim found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Lucy’s face as she looked up at him with a smile that outshone it all. 

“I don’t know...I’ve seen better,” he said with a smirk as he bent down to kiss her softly, enjoying the relative privacy they found as some of the last people left taking in the sights as it got closer to closing time. 

They wandered for a little while before settling in front of the Empire State Building, with Lucy pressed up against the railing and Tim pressed up against her. They stood in silence as Tim covered her cold hands with his, and he thought back to when he first visited this city as a kid who’d just come home from hell. He remembered standing at the top of this same building and wondering if he’d ever see this skyline again—and what kind of eyes he’d be looking at it with if he ever did. 

Now, so many years and what felt like so many lifetimes later, here he was. And he was glad it had taken him so long to come back. Because now he could look at it with eyes that weren’t cloudy with loss or closed in anger and fear. Instead, his eyes were open now to the possibility that some things were _good_. 

He had the woman in front of him to thank for that.

(He had the woman in front of him to thank for everything.) 

“Are you glad you came with me?” Lucy turned in his arms, and he caught the scent of her shampoo as the top of her head brushed under his chin. 

He dropped a quick kiss to her lavender-scented temple. “It was definitely the right choice.” 

She was _always_ the right choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left, and I promise it'll be a good one (even if it takes a little longer than next week Saturday to get it up and running)!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated, and thank you so much to those of you who've been encouraging me along the way!


	5. Monday

It was over. 

Lucy left a tip for housekeeping while Tim checked one last time to make sure they had everything packed and ready to go. The room was filled with the kind of sleepy silence that hangs in the air at the end of a great trip, but the sadness that often shares space with the silence wasn’t there. 

(Maybe it’s because she knew she was bringing the best part of the trip home with her.) 

Lucy smiled as Tim’s lips brushed against her hair. 

“All set?” His whisper was as gentle as the glow of the rising sun Lucy could see out the window. 

She turned her face up to him and raised herself onto her tiptoes in her sneakers as she nodded. “Let’s go home,” she said softly before pressing her lips to his. 

_Home._

As she followed his dimpled smile out into the hallway and rested her tired head on his shoulder in the empty elevator, Lucy thought about home. 

The lights of LA. Sunny California skies. The warmth of their little house. 

These were all home. But so was the scent of Tim’s aftershave on his neck. The sound of his breathing. The warmth of his body against hers. 

_He_ was home. 

LA. New York. Wherever their next adventure took them. Lucy knew that as long as Tim was there, she’d feel safe and happy and _home_. 

So with a heart full of memories (and a stomach full of Junior’s cheesecake), she slept deeply on the long flight back to the Golden State. 

Because she wasn’t heading home. 

She was already there. 

\----------------------------------------------

It was over. 

Nothing made Lucy feel like the magic of a vacation had dissolved into memories quite like unpacking, so she tried to keep some joy alive by humming to herself as she took out their (mostly her) toiletries and put them back in their bathroom.

_Back to life...back to reality…_

When she finished putting the last of the medicines back in the cabinet above the sink, she wandered into the bedroom to see if Tim needed any help with the clothes. As Kojo greeted her with a nuzzle of her kneecaps, she caught Tim quickly stuffing something into the pocket of his Dodgers hoodie. 

Something from a Tiffany blue bag.

Lucy had visions of the pretty infinity necklace she saw on their trip dancing in her head as she sauntered up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“So...what did you get me?” she asked in a singsong voice, giggling as he rolled his eyes in response. 

“Patience, Boot,” he said with a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. 

“Oh we both know that is not one of my virtues,” she sighed with a shake of her head before crouching down to scratch behind Kojo’s ears. “I bet Kojo will tell me.”

She leaned in conspiratorially. “What did Daddy get me?”

Lucy’s suspicions that Kojo understood every word she said to him were confirmed when he cocked his head in Tim’s direction. Tim bent over to take Kojo’s big head in his hands. “Nobody likes a snitch,” he said to the dog with a wink in Lucy’s direction. 

Lucy laughed as she stood up and found herself being pulled back into Tim’s arms. With his hands on her ass and his mouth an inch from hers, she whispered, “Are you trying to distract me, Sergeant Bradford?” 

He slowly traced one finger up and down the outside of her hip, making her shiver. There was laughter in his voice as he replied, “Is it working?” 

“No,” she sighed as she bumped his nose with hers, contradicting herself with a roll of her hips against him. 

His huff of laughter was warm on her cheek. “You’re still a terrible liar, Boot.” 

Any argument she may have made was crushed against his mouth, which worked with unyielding insistence over hers. She eagerly chased the heavy heat of his lips as his hands guided her closer to him—a slow dance she never wanted to stop. 

“Can we stay like this forever?” she breathed against his neck as his lips traveled across her hairline. 

He pulled back just enough to make her whine from the loss of his lips, which were now pressed into a familiar smirk. “Forever, huh?” he teased, holding her chin in a surprisingly shaky hand. 

Lucy took his free hand in hers, curling her fingers around his. “You got other plans?” 

After a long beat, he raised her left hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently. “Let me check my calendar.” 

His words were playful, but his face was anything but. He seemed to be genuinely torn about something as he turned to walk to the doorway, and Lucy was met with a brief moment of fear that maybe “forever” hadn’t been a good word to choose. 

But then he paused, turning back to her with a look of such contented certainty that Lucy’s heart leapt into her throat. 

She knew. 

She knew right before he put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a little blue box, and tossed it to her the same way he’d tossed a different ring to her what felt like a lifetime ago. 

She knew....But she still wanted to hear him say it. 

“Tim?” She blinked back the tears threatening to spill over as the box sat in her hands with her whole future—their whole future—inside of it. It was waiting to be opened, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away from the man slowly making his way back toward her, his own eyes shining. 

“I wanted to plan something perfect...But we’ve never really done things according to plan, have we?” 

He was standing in front of her then, shaking his head affectionately as he reached out to wipe a stray tear that had traitorously tracked down her cheek. 

She shook her head, as she turned her face to kiss his palm. “I love you,” she replied—knowing it wasn’t really the answer to that question. 

And yet it was also the _only_ answer to that question. 

He kissed her in reply, and she felt every promise contained in that little blue box in every sure and steady movement of his mouth against hers. 

“I love you,” he echoed against her lips before slowly, deliberately dropping down to one knee and easing the box from her hands to his. 

“You know words aren’t my thing, but I’m going to try this. And you’ve gotta promise to let me finish,” he added with a flash of his dimples.

“Yes sir,” she said with a giggle through her tears. 

He took a deep breath, his eyes locked on hers. “Do you remember the other night I threw a ring at you?”

She nodded with a smile so big her cheeks hurt, keeping her promise to let him finish, and he continued, “I couldn’t sleep that night after I left the precinct. And it hit me around 3 a.m. that it was because I was too excited. I was like a little kid on Christmas Eve. And it was all because I was going to get to see you again, spend a day with you again, hear you talk again...And that feeling has never changed. I still get excited to see you every morning. I still get excited to come home to you every night. You make me so happy, baby.” His voice broke, and she gripped his wrist, anchoring them both to this moment—to each other. 

He looked up at the ceiling for a long moment before his eyes found their way back to hers. The depth of emotion in them threatened to bring her to her knees right alongside him. “It was like I spent my whole life with my head down, just trying to get through it. Then you came along. And it was like you lifted my head up and showed me everything I was missing.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Thank you.” 

He eased open the box in his hand, and Lucy barely glanced at the beautiful solitaire diamond ring she’d been obsessing over in the store. She had more important things to look at right now. 

“I know I’ve asked you a lot of questions, Boot, but this might be the most important one yet.” 

He had the audacity to smirk at her while proposing, and she’d never loved him more. 

“Lucy Chen, will you marry me?” 

Her “Yes!” was mixed with laughter and happy tears (and excited barking from Kojo) as he slid the ring onto her finger, and she slid down to meet him eye-to-eye. 

Equals.

Partners.

Forever. 

“Was that the right answer, Sergeant Bradford?” she asked, placing two trembling hands on the sides of his face and feeling his own tear tracks under her palms. 

“It was perfect, Officer Chen,” he responded before kissing her soundly. He took his time, his mouth moving over hers like they had forever to lose themselves in each other. 

Because they did. 

When they eased apart, Tim sat back against the foot of their bed and pulled Lucy between his legs. As he wrapped his arms around her and she felt his pounding heart against her back, Kojo nestled himself at their feet. 

Her boys.

Her family.

Forever. 

“You ready for an adventure?” Tim asked, dropping a quick kiss to her shoulder as she took a moment to admire her ring. 

“With you?” she asked before quickly kissing his smile. “Always.”

It was only just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it; we've reached the end of this journey with Tim and Lucy! I'm so sorry it took me so long to update this, and I want to thank all of you who've encouraged me to come back to finish this chapter in their story. I hope this can serve as a nice little Christmas gift to all of you! 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are the best gift of all! ;)


End file.
